The Singing of a Cricket At midnight I heard a cricket singing outside the window, pushing the wandering moonlight into the emptiness of my room. I like all the bright and empty things. They are not created, but exist like the everlasting dr ...
The first snow of this season wakes up The colorful morning of Rocky Mountains, But not my youthful dreams long, long ago. They roam at the lucid darkness before dawn, Crystalizing birds’ chirping on red leaves: Oh, memory, dear memory, What do you still carry? When falling in my old ...
博文
视频
基金
相册
收藏
积分
会议